Tuesday, January 16, 2007

10 comments:

Well, that was *very* interesting. First, I thought you'd have a Northern England accent, Bryan, but no, you sound like an Oxbridgean. Second, you have a divine left eyebrow -- long may it arc. Third, I've been telling Frank for months that I was quite sure you were a short guy (a la Napoleon), overweight and pugnacious. Au contraire, you appear to be a tall guy, eminently reasonable, with long elegant legs. And well dressed! (I now predict a lovely, fashionable, 30-ish wife with good taste in clothes!)

And Iain Dale -- I didn't know he was also a TV personality. Well, well. Such presentable bloggers. I do believe you Britons are well beyond the majority of American bloggers in that regard. At least, the majority of liberal ones. Frank W., on the contrary, is sartorially splendid with a lovely deep voice.

I was more interested in how much white hair Bryan has. And I'm pleased to say he has more white hair than me. My own whiteness quotient has started increasing at an alarming rate, which makes it difficult to fool yourself into thinking you're still young. I've begun to obsessively scrutinise other people's hair to see where I lie in the whiteness spectrum. I reckon I'm currently at Mourinho levels.

Bryan is a right cutie, no doubt about it. Looks to go with brains and wit -- whew; it's an irresistable mix! (Good thing my sweet husband has all that too, hey?)

Well, I predict if women see Bryan on that program, they'll buy his book -- even if they don't know what the heck he's talking about. Marketing is everything and Bry's noble and studmuffinish mien is just the thing to sell a few thousand books.

Gordon, be glad you have hair! I am surrounded by men in this newsroom who don't. When I used to work on the balcony overlooking the main newsroom, I measured my days here by the ever-expanding bald spots below me. Honestly, in five years, I watched some guys go from full-heads of hair to gleaming domes....

The eyebrow was the result of a cycling accident when I was a child. In adulthood it is taken to signify irony. That aside, calm down, guys, I was wearing studio make-up. The reality, this morning at least, is not quite so edifying.

I like the point that if everyone could live indefinitely we'd end up with a world of teenagers. Teens assume there are infinite days to play with, so are quite happy to spend all day in bed. Death does lend life a certain urgency.

Except we'd be worse than teens: teens also have a reduced fear of accidental death, so are more happy to take physical risks.

We'd all be terrified of being run over by a bus/personal hovercraft/Segway and blowing all those extra centuries that we paid for up front when we bought the Magic Pill.

So even when we could be bothered to get out of bed, we'd never leave the house.

A blog about, among other things, imaginary ideas - What ifs? and Imagine thats. What if photographs looked nothing like what we see with our eyes? Imagine that the Berlin Wall had never come down. What if we were the punchline of an interminable joke? All contributions welcome.